


Never Underestimate a House-Elf

by jesmalestiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Hermione Granger, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Espionage, F/F, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Fix-It, House Elves, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27499063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesmalestiel/pseuds/jesmalestiel
Summary: What if Harry thought of more than just steak and kidney pie, and called Kreacher to them as soon as he realized Hermione had apparated the trio away from Grimmauld Place? A very different camping trip ensues. Inspired by #WizardTeam and the Time Room
Relationships: Dobby/Kreacher (Harry Potter), Hermione Granger/Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Past Hermione Granger/Lavender Brown, minor Hermione Granger/Luna Lovegood - Relationship, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley - Relationship
Comments: 52
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Author’s Note:** I thought long and hard about whether I wanted to post a new Harry Potter fanfiction after everything that J.K. Rowling has said and done. I do not want to promote her works. That said, the way that she treats house elves is garbage. I hope this fic meets a higher standard than that pathetically low bar. You bet this veers away from canon. Unfortunately the legal rights to these characters belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers and whoever else she sold the rights to. But the joy I took in dismantling her structures and making them queer as hell is all mine. One other note regarding house elves: aside from occasionally slipping into the third person, the house elves in this story will primarily be speaking in standard English because I do not have the time nor the patience to emulate JKR’s minstrelry when it comes to them.  
>   
> Many thanks to my beta, K. Alexandra, who keeps me honest when it comes to what tense I’m using, and my partner, Transreal_Clouden, who listens to me talk about house elves ad infinitum and has been a supporter of this fic since its inception. Finally, I would be remiss not to credit #WizardTeam and the Time Room. Bayana Davis and Robyn Jordan let me stumble into their virtual podcast studio and pose the leading question of this fic during the episode in which I featured. ([Listen here!](https://blackgirlscreate.org/2020/11/episode-252-what-if-kreacher-joined-the-trio-during-the-horcrux-hunt-with-talia-franks/)) This story loosely follows the discussion we had on the podcast but I made some significant changes, even in this first chapter. For those of you who have listened to the episode, don’t be surprised if things turn out very different than you might expect. 
> 
> Updates every other Monday! 
> 
> (For ye of little faith who are used to my _[Eclipse the Past, Usurp the Future](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786856/chapters/26580357)_ update schedule, the fact that this fic has lots of prewritten chapters _may_ be the reason there haven’t been as many recent updates on that fic as there could be. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)

Harry opened his eyes and was dazzled by gold and green. What had happened? They were obviously free of the Ministry, to his great relief, but why weren’t they at Grimmauld Place? Suddenly his heart leapt as he heard a groan. Sitting up quickly Harry saw Ron and Hermione next to him, and all thoughts were gone from his mind as he saw Ron, halfway between his own form and Cattermole’s, his whole left side drenched in blood.

“What happened to him?” Harry asked Hermione as he dashed over to join her at Ron’s side.

“Splinched,” she replied shortly, already busy examining Ron’s shoulder, her hands covered in his blood. “Harry, quickly, in my bag, there’s a small bottle labelled _Essence of Dittany —”_

Harry grabbed her bag from where it had fallen on the ground and quickly summoned the bottle before handing it to her. Carefully she poured three drops onto the wound on Ron’s upper arm, where a great chunk of flesh was simply missing, left behind in their hurried apparition.

“Hermione, why aren’t we at Grimmauld Place?” Harry asked, as they watched the wound seal over, the skin stretching across itself and taking the appearance of being several days old.

“I don’t think it’s safe to go back there Harry. Yaxley grabbed hold of me, the Death Eaters can get in now, we are secret keepers since Dumbledore’s death, and, well, I’ve given him the secret now haven’t I?” Hermione said quietly. Harry’s eyes widened before he stood up suddenly.

“Kreacher!” he shouted. There was a pop, and the house-elf appeared.

“Master!” Kreacher croaked as he appeared with a pop, and Harry was relieved to see that he was alone. Harry never thought he would see Kreacher smile — or that he would be _glad_ to see that smile, but nevertheless he was.

 _“Harry”_ Hermione hissed. “That was incredibly dangerous, Ron is still unconscious!”

“Yes, and if I had waited even seconds longer Kreacher could have been taken by Death Eaters!” Harry hissed back, and Hermione looked away, her lips in a thin line as she warred between shame, anxiety, and fear.

“I’m going to set up some protective barriers,” Hermione sighed. “I’m glad you’re alright, Kreacher.” Kreacher, who had never liked Hermione, even with his change of heart, did not acknowledge this, and she sighed again before she pulled out her wand and began to cast. 

“Did you make it out alright, Kreacher? Did they make it into Grimmauld?” Harry asked.

Kreacher shook his head. “I sealed the house, Master.”

“You what?” Harry asked, frowning.

“I sealed the house. There is a spell that was cast a generation ago that stops anything and anyone from getting in or out. When I heard the nasty Death Eater trying to get in after Master and his friends apparated away I did the first spell, and then I went out the back and did the second. I was just going to apparate to Hogwarts to wait to see if Master would call when you did.”

“I’m glad you made it out Kreacher, and I’m relieved you sealed the house. If they can’t get in, they might think we’re still hiding there and waste efforts trying to enter. And Kreacher, would you please consider calling me something other than Master?” Harry tacked the last part on, sounding hopeful. Kreacher simply blinked at him.

Ron, who Harry hadn’t noticed was awake, snorted. “I think he’s waiting for you to give him an order, mate.” 

Harry sighed, because his dislike of giving orders was the entire point. “Kreacher, would you please call me Mr. Harry?” Kreacher nodded frowning. 

Harry turned to Ron and pointed. “As for you — I was going to feel sorry for you on account for the fact that you’re splinched but if you’re going to be an arse —” Harry said jokingly with half a smile and Ron laughed as well, Hermione huffing at both of them before coming back from casting her spells.

“We should be protected now, at least somewhat in case anyone tries to trace our or Kreacher’s apparition. It won’t protect us fully, but we’ll know if they’re coming. How do you feel, Ron, truly?” Hermione asked, her voice turning from slightly annoyed to soft.

His smile turned into a bit of a grimace. “Lousy. Where are we anyway?”

“The woods where they held the Quidditch World Cup. It was the first place I thought of. Enclosed, undercover. Even safer now that I’ve put up the enchantments, but they can be taken down when we want to move on. But I’m not sure Ron should be moved. The dittany is all the healing I feel comfortable doing with my limited skills,” Hermione frowned at the looks on Harry and Ron’s faces. Both of them were thinking of what had happened the last time they had gone to the first place Hermione had thought of — but had either of them thought of anywhere in either time of crisis?

Deciding that they wouldn’t get anything done simply standing around on top of twigs they set up the tent Hermione had brought — previously owned by Perkins at the Ministry, now the property of Arthur Weasley and on loan to the trio. Once they had it set up Kreacher got to busily making them tea — he apparently had something that was akin to Hermione’s beaded bag, only it stored food rather than all the worldly possessions of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. It contained tea, fruits, vegetables, and their promised Steak and Kidney pie, held in stasis.

They sat around the table, Kreacher joining them at their insistence and only because in the single room tent there was nowhere else to go except the bathroom. Ron with some difficulty — upright was a struggle for him, they’d had to levitate him into the tent. Harry and Hermione had attempted to place him in one of the bunks but he had stubbornly refused and insisted on sitting with them at the table. They could all tell that he was unwell, however, due to the fact that he seemed unwilling to have more than a few bites of his pie, actually putting a loaded fork back down on his plate, still looking pale.

“What’s next, mate?” Ron asked, looking at Harry.

Harry paused, mid-bite, before he resumed, put the clean fork down on his plate and chewed self consciously, mindful of the fact that Ron, Hermione, and Kreacher were all staring at him. He half wanted to snap at them and ask why he was to be the one in charge, before the thought sunk in again, as it often had since they had been on the run and hiding from the Death Eaters and Voldemort that they were truly on their own. Dumbledore was dead. Destroying the horcruxes was the mission he had been entrusted with, and it was up to him to try and come up with a plan. He swallowed before speaking.

“We’ll need to move as soon as it is safe to do so. We can’t afford to stay in one place too long, not unless we can find somewhere properly secure, and given that we don’t even have our NEWTs yet I don’t think we can put up enchantments good enough to stop Vol—”

“Don’t say his name!” Ron hissed. Harry rolled his eyes. Ron had always had such a problem with hearing Voldemort’s name, Harry had never understood.

“And why not?” Harry snapped. “Dumbledore —”

“Mr. Harry?” Kreacher interrupted. Harry blinked and turned to Kreacher, who had never _intentionally_ interrupted him before, usually keeping any comments he made to be snide remarks in the background.

“Yes, Kreacher?” Harry asked.

“I do not think it wise, Mr. Harry, to be saying the Dark Lord’s name. When Kreacher was with the Black mistresses, Kreacher heard tell that the Dark Lord was planning to place a taboo on the name, and that any who uttered it would have his followers called to him at once. It might break our protections,” Kreacher offered. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at Kreacher, horrified. Had they really come within two syllables of another fight with Death Eaters?

“Well, OK, so we’ll keep on the move. That’s a good start to our plan,” Hermione said shakily, sounding far more calm than Harry felt.

“Yeah, um,” Harry ruffled his hand through his hair as he stared down at his food. “We’ll need to figure out food… Kreacher, will you still be able to shop for us?”

“Of course, Mr. Harry.” Kreacher nodded, looking almost affronted.

“We should probably stock up, we have no idea how long we are going to be doing this for, we need to take precautions,” Hermione hummed. Harry nodded and looked around the tent. It was a small space for three teenagers and a house elf. And though Kreacher had been good to them ever since the revelation about Regulus and the locket, he couldn’t deny that he didn’t relish the thought of spending so much time in close quarters with the person who had led Sirius to his death by sitting at the feet of the Malfoys and Lestranges and listening to everything that they had to say. Although that did give him an idea. It was mad. It put them at entirely too much risk, but if they could really trust Kreacher… it just might work.

“Kreacher, would you please stand guard outside the tent, and warn us if anyone comes near?” Harry asked suddenly. Kreacher nodded, and disappeared with a pop. They heard him reappear outside the tent, and Harry cast a one-way silencing charm as he lent forward toward Ron and Hermione. He opened his mouth to speak, conscious of their curious glances before yet another thought occurred to him. “Hermione, you _did_ get the locket, didn’t you?”

“What?” Hermione asked, distracted. “Oh! Oh, yes, of course, I have it!” She said hastily, reaching for her bag and clutching it protectively.

“Blimey!” said Ron. “No one tells me anything.”

“We were a bit busy, in case you didn’t notice,” Harry said shortly. “That’s great Hermione. Listen, guys, we have the horcrux, we can destroy it, but there’s more, and we don’t know where they are, we don’t know where Vol- sorry, Riddle is, or what he’s up to, _but_ ,” Harry paused and licked his lips. “ _But_ , we can find out.”

“Harry, you are supposed to learn occlumency, you can’t let him inside your head!” Hermione cried out.

“Oh would you stop about that, Hermione! I’m not letting him inside my head any time soon, not if I can help it, and I never can!” Harry snapped.

“If you just tried —”

“Oh come off it, that’s not even his plan!” Ron grumbled, stabbing at his pie, which was starting to grow cold, Kreacher’s charms wearing thin now that he was not there to maintain them. “Why would he have sent Kreacher away for that? The menace has heard plenty of your fights.”

“Kreacher is not a _menace_ Ron,” Harry snapped, before reigning himself in, because he knew that, previous to the past few weeks, he probably would have said the same thing about the house elf. “But look, Hermione, this has nothing to do with going into the head of a dark lord, or letting him into mine. It’s about getting a spy into the heart of his forces.” At Ron and Hermione’s puzzled faces Harry continued. “Dumbledore told me, after Sirius died, that Kreacher had been welcomed by Bellatrix and Narcissa. That they had accepted his rebellion from Sirius. What if we stage another rebellion? What if, in the chaos that is us escaping the Ministry, Hermione and I inadvertently free Kreacher, allowing him to serve the Black family once more?”

“OK, and why would we want to serve our heads to You-Know-Who on a silver platter, exactly?” Ron asked before shoving another forkful of pie in his mouth, seemingly having regained his appetite. “Also where am I in this story.” 

“You’re at the burrow with spattergroit Ron and isn’t it obvious? We aren’t really going to free Kreacher, we’re going to pretend, manipulating the house elf bond. It's ancient magic, I’ve studied it. Whoever created it was a master, cruel, cunning, powerful beyond perhaps even they knew.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “I’ve thought about it, and Kreacher was able to get through all of Riddle’s many enchantments, just to get back to Regulus. Riddle was considered unparalleled by all but Dumbledore, and yet foiled by a house elf. It’s poetic that he be foiled again by the same one.

“This is mad Harry, he can’t be their elf, not when he’s yours!” Ron argued.

“But maybe he can,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “If Harry crafts the orders carefully enough, and Kreacher plays them exactly the right way. If Harry does things like instruct him to follow the orders of Bellatrix and Narcissa as if he were a Black elf with the exception of harming innocents where it will not blow his cover, use his magic to fake the creation of a bond with Bellatrix and/or Narcissa, falsehoods such as those. It really could work. It’s madness. It could fall apart at our feet and we could be dead at dawn… but it could work,” Hermione’s voice filled with equal parts trepidation and wonder.

“So, should we call him back in?” Harry asked.

“If you want to take watch, sure,” Hermione said distractedly. “Keeping one up is a good idea, and I need to make some notes about this before we bring it up with him and make sure that we write up exactly what the plan is to a T. I want this ironclad before we put it in place.”

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

Kreacher took the news of his new task with a solemnity that Harry had not anticipated, and it was in that moment that he finally appreciated what Hermione had been trying to tell him all these years about the slavery house elves were subjected to. Kreacher was going to be putting his life on the line to spy for them, and he had no choice but to do so because of Harry’s orders. 

“Kreacher, is this task something you want? You could also stay with us —” Harry started to offer, ignoring Ron’s fervently shaking head in the background.

“Master Regulus is dead because of the Dark Lord.” Kreacher said firmly. “The Death Eaters are bad people for supporting him. Kreacher loves Bellatrix and Narcissa, but he must avenge Master Regulus. Kreacher can do this. Kreacher will do this. Give the orders Mr. Harry.” Harry still hesitated before Kreacher ground out a word Harry _never_ thought he would hear from the house elf. “Please.”

Harry took a deep breath and swallowed back the bile in his throat. _OK Potter, you can do this._

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

Harry was cooking again. We’ll, baking. It was odd how he had started to like cooking for Ron and Hermione, when he had so hated cooking for the Dursleys. Kreacher had acquired a large amount of food for them, but neither Ron nor Hermione was a particularly good chef, and so it fell to Harry, who had done a fair share of helping his aunt Petunia around the kitchen, to teach them how to do things such as make a fry up and cook rice and roast a chicken. Hermione knew some, more than Ron at least, but she was still a novice, having been banned from the kitchen at a young age due to her perceived clumsiness, which was actually just accidental magic acting up because of her frustration at her lack of skill. Hermione prided herself at being good at everything, but in this case what had stopped her from learning her way around a kitchen was her frustration about her inability to learn her way around a kitchen. The irony was not lost on her.

Although Ron and Hermione were starting to learn — how could they not when the three of them were constantly together on what was functionally an indefinite camping trip in a tent which was functionally a one-bedroom flat — Harry still did the majority of the cooking. Today he was baking a cake — it was Hermione’s birthday and while they may be on the camping trip from hell and taking turns wearing a locket that screwed with their emotions he wasn’t going to let said locket stop him from making his best friend the cake she deserved. One did not turn eighteen every day. Harry was just putting the finishing touches on the frosting — which he had admittedly used premade frosting provided by Kreacher’s trip to a muggle store while disguised as a human — when Hermione came in from her shift on watch.

It was midday now, the time when they usually all came together and left only monitoring charms outside on the perimeter. She was tired as she sat down at their small kitchen table with Ron, who was reading over a defensive magic textbook, but set it down when Hermione came in. They were all tired, really, not having made progress in weeks. Anger stirred at him, cold where the locket stirred against his chest, but softened as Harry observed that she had pulled her hair up into a kind of bun, the many long thin braids she had been sporting that morning neatly tucked away. Now that he thought about it, she had started keeping her hair in that micro braid style ever since they left Grimmauld Place, a change from at Hogwarts, where she often kept her hair either down or pulled back in a single braid.

Catching Hermione’s curious look, Harry realized that he had been staring and, wondering when he had become so obsessed with his friend’s hair and doing his best to shake those thoughts from his mind he instead retrieved the cake and placed it in front of her with a smile that was barely forced.

“Happy birthday Hermione!” Hermione’s eyes widened as she perked up at the sight of the chocolate cake, and giggled at Harry and Ron’s out of sync attempts to serenade her with the birthday song. He could make it through this war, Harry thought, as long as he had Ron and Hermione.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author’s Note:** Thanks to the wonderful K. Alexandra for keeping my syntax straight and to Transreal_Clouden for never hesitating to read and give feedback on the many google docs of fanfic I send his way.

Despite the levity of Hermione’s birthday, the constant sharing of the horcrux was wearing down the spirits of the trio. Kreacher would pop by every few days to give them updates, but there was never much of anything to say. The Malfoys were not in high favor with The Dark Lord at the moment, and Kreacher did not have very much liberty, as they were suspicious of him, given that he had a previous role as the House Elf of Harry Potter. Kreacher had originally been brought before Voldemort himself, something that horrified the trio, as it was an outcome they had not considered before asking Kreacher to undertake the task. 

Kreacher, however, was not to be underestimated, as the combination of his vows, Harry’s orders, and his own acting prowess was enough to convince Voldemort that Kreacher was of no value or threat, and therefore was dismissed. Kreacher now worked with Milly, the House Elf that the Malfoy’s had acquired after Harry had tricked Lucius into freeing Dobby. Milly, while not desirous of freedom to the same extent as Dobby, was nevertheless a miserable elf, and glad of the help that a second set of hands provided. Kreacher suspected that she might suspect something, but she also hated the Malfoys, Death Eaters, and Voldemort enough that she was conveniently out of the way and capable of doing both of their chores multiple times a week.

Kreacher found that Milly was good company, and he liked working with another house elf that didn’t despise him on sight. Working in the Hogwarts kitchens had been difficult for him, as he had started off on a rather bad foot with the other elves there, many of the elves having found out that he had a role in the death of his master. To an elf, betrayal of one’s master made one an anathema. The only elves who would come close to associating with him were Dobby and Winky, and in Dobby’s case  _ that _ was only because Dobby and Kreacher were both aiding Harry Potter, albeit for very different reasons. 

Kreacher’s relationship with Winky was different. Her longing for Barty Crouch Jr. reminded him of his longing for Regulus, and soon after he started working with Dobby on the project for Harry Potter, he also began to aid Dobby in small ways in his care for Winky. It became an almost natural thing for the two of them to take care of her, and Kreacher found himself liking the other elf despite himself, and the two of them became almost something like friends, despite the very different views they had on the world. It was ironic, then, that Kreacher now served the Malfoys, that family that Dobby had so yearned to be free from. Kreacher wished he could see Dobby now, but going to Hogwarts was too dangerous to do so on a whim. Not with a war on. No, there would have to be extraordinary circumstances to warrant a trip there.

— 

It was a clear evening and the trio were in the Forest of Dean. They sat around a campfire outside their tent in the highest spirits they had been in since Hermione’s birthday, and much of it was thanks to Kreacher. The day previous, during one of his normal reports, the house elf noticed that Harry had been wearing the necklace openly on his chest and suggested that it might be wiser to keep the locket protected in the moleskin pouch Harry wore instead of out in the open. That way, no one would notice the necklace in the rare event they were in a battle, and he would also be immune to the necklace’s malicious effects. It was such a simple solution that the three wixen marveled that they had never thought of it before, but once none of them were carrying the weight of the necklace the atmosphere lightened enough that they had no worries about their folly. What  _ did _ worry them that night, was the sound of voices. Hermione quickly put out the fire, upon which they had been roasting salmon caught from the nearby river, and they all stood up, wands drawn. Looking worriedly at each other, they cast silencing, disillusionment, and scent-concealing charms on themselves. With extreme tension, Hermione carefully let loose an Extendible Ear, charmed invisible, as they crept to the edge of the enchantments to listen closer. 

Harry’s mind raced as he listened to the group by the river go back and forth about the current situation at Hogwarts. There  _ had _ to be a way to get more information. Surely Ginny, Luna, and Neville would be safe with Hagrid for detention, but what else was going on at the school? And where was the real sword? The sword… the sword would be able to destroy horcruxes! But where  _ was _ it? And his friends still at school, with  _ Snape _ as headmaster, and all of those restrictions…. Oh how badly he wanted to talk to those on the riverbank, especially Dean, but no, stick to the task at hand Potter…. He had to focus. But his friends were risking their lives at Hogwarts, still fighting for him, going up against Snape, fighting Death Eaters in their own school. Maybe he could — no, he had to find out how they were doing. If they were okay. Detention with Hagrid would not be the only punishment, not when Snape was involved.

As the assembled group near the river packed up and moved on, the trio returned to their camp site.

"Harry, the sword —" Hermione started.

"I think that's why he wanted me to have it, yeah. But I have no idea where we're going to get it. And the others risked Snape and Death Eaters for a fake," Harry ground out. 

Hermione bit her lip. "I think they'll be okay. Hagrid will keep them safe in the forest, it's actually a fairly light punishment, though that almost worries me more. Either he doesn't know how well Hagrid gets on with us in the DA…."

"Or he's planning something worse," said Ron darkly. "And the forest is plenty bad itself. I know we've been on plenty of adventures, but that's my baby sister out there."

"Next time Kreacher reports in," Harry said firmly. "We'll ask him to take a letter to Hogwarts, try and pass it through Dobby, if he is still there. Dobby was a free elf, so he's not bound to the rules of the headmaster, but he's had access to the castle. We can see how much he can or has been helping the students. I'm sure he is. Why didn't I think of it before?" Harry cursed himself. 

"We're wixen." Hermione said hopelessly. "Even as hard as  _ I  _ try, we can't help but underestimate house elves.”

— 

Kreacher was surprised at his own luck, though he knew that fortune changed at the flip of a coin, especially in war. He was to go to Hogwarts and deliver a letter, unseen, to one Ginny Weasley, and/or (preferably and) make contact with Dobby. Fortunately, this endeavour was met with much success, as he encountered Dobby almost immediately upon arrival. 

Kreacher had chosen to appear in the collapsed portion of the secret passageway behind the mirror on the fourth floor. Dementors now guarded all of the secret passages, but only on the  _ outside _ of the passages, patrolling the exit points and making routine sweeps up and down the lengths of the passages themselves. It was a  _ nightmare _ for business at Honeydukes. The collapsed passage, however, was a different matter. There were still dementors on the outside, and those who patrolled the outer span of the corridor, but the portion of the passageway that was within Hogwarts was not patrolled by dementors, or really by anyone. The mirror had been locked with the strongest spells that Snape could muster, and it was a well-recognized fact that no one could apparate within Hogwarts. Since the only space between the mirror back and the collapse was within the wards, there was a wide, enclosed passageway that was supposedly nothing but rough dead air, and the perfect place for Kreacher to appear and softly call for Dobby.

This had always been their preferred meeting place in Hogwarts, and they had made it quite comfortable, with cosy chairs, a table, and a cool cupboard where they kept snacks and drinks. A place to truly relax. A sanctuary in this time of madness. Kreacher was surprised by how much he had missed it. 

“Kreacher!” Dobby appeared a few minutes later with a small pop and an air of surprise. “Why are you at Hogwarts and not with Mr. Harry Potter, on his mission to defeat The Dark Lord?”

“Dobby,” Kreacher said seriously. “I have been given a very serious mission that I must not speak of. Right now, Mr. Harry Potter needs someone to work with him to communicate with those in Hogwarts, for now, he has asked that I bring this letter to Ginny Weasley. I also have his permission to give to you in trust that you will pass it to her and bring her response back to Mr. Harry Potter. Will you do this Dobby?” Kreacher asked solemnly.

“Dobby would do  _ anything _ for Mr. Harry Potter!” Dobby snapped. “Kreacher knows this. Dobby is not a traitor!”

Kreacher bit his tongue. Master Sirius had been a bad Master. Kreacher did not regret his dying. Though Kreacher did wish he had not had such a direct part in it. Kreacher thought the locket’s madness might have had something to do with it. He had worn it every night since he had saved it, up until one day he decided it needed a polish, and took it off to clean. When he came back with the polish the thief had stolen away with it. That was how he knew the locket drove people to madness, how he knew Master Harry should not wear it. Still, locket or no, Kreacher was still a traitor, and Master Sirius was a bad master, and Kreacher had to live with the choices he made.

“Please give this to Ginny Weasley. You can see it is not cursed,” Kreacher handed Dobby a letter, and then hesitated before also giving Dobby a ribbon. “Please put your magical signature on this ribbon, so that Ms. Hermione,” Kreacher’s face made an uncomfortable expression at what he was compelled to call the witch out of forced respect, though it was slowly becoming less forced “can allow you past the enchantments once Ginny Weasley has a reply for Mr. Harry Potter. Ms. Hermione has created a charmed coin for you to know when they would like to see you.” Here Kreacher handed Dobby a fake sickle. “This will let you know when to come and where to go.”

“How can I know to trust you, Kreaher?” asked Dobby, suspiciously.

“How can I know to trust you, Dobby?” Kreacher asked in reply.

“Dobby is not —”

“A traitor, except you  _ abandoned _ your family!”

“Dobby is a free elf! And Kreacher is a traitor!”

“Well maybe Kreacher just wanted to be a free elf too!” Kreacher shouted before gasping and covering his mouth. Admitting to the desire for freedom was a hard thing, for an elf. For centuries they had been enslaved to the wixen, made utterly dependent on them. Before Dobby found work at Hogwarts he was nearly destitute. No one would ever  _ pay _ an elf in the magical world. And the Statute of Secrecy prevented him from ever working in the Muggle world. Magic did a lot, but it could not disguise him as a human and create an entire fictional background for him. Not without support, and that was something Dobby never had. There were dozens, probably hundreds of house elves who wanted freedom, but instead settled for simply being alive. 

“Does Kreacher — I mean — do you mean that? You will ask to be free of Mr. Harry Potter?” Dobby asked, his eyes going even more impossibly wide.

“Kreacher does not know,” Kreacher said slowly. “Kreacher does not want to talk about it. Please Dobby, will you take this letter to Ginny Weasley? Will you bring her reply to Mr. Harry Potter?”

“Of course Kreacher,” Dobby said, with a wide smile. “Dobby is happy to help his friends, and Harry Potter, and Kreacher, are his friends.”

Kreacher froze. “We are friends?”

“Of course, Kreacher. We work together. A team now. Friends.” Kreacher was startled when Dobby pulled him into a hug, and disappeared with a pop. A short time later, perhaps an hour, maybe two, he returned, this time with a different letter. Kreacher, still reeling in his thoughts, was pulled out of them when Dobby gave it to him.

“Dobby thought it odd when he realized Kreacher was still here. You can bring the letter to Mr. Harry Potter yourself now.”

“Yes,” Kreacher croaked. “Thank you Dobby. And thank you… for being my friend.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don’t own the rights to the Harry Potter franchise and I’m writing this out of my own resentment towards the mistreatment of house-elves and how their narrative was wasted in the series, not at all for financial gain.
> 
>  **Author’s Note:** Thanks as always to Transreal_Clouden!

_ Dear Friends, _

_ I know that this letter is going through secure means, but still I hesitate to put names onto the page, given the current state of things here, lest even this be intercepted. Thank you for your concern, and everyone is as safe as they can be, as far as I know. Our trip through the forest was no trouble, it was even enjoyable, compared to the suffering in the castle. There are no muggleborns. None have returned, and no first years. I suspect some have fled, but I worry that others are in Azkaban, or worse. Though really, I wonder which is worse sometimes. I hate that I think like that, and I hate that children are suffering. _

_ The forest was a blessing, really. Some detentions are being subjected to the cruciatus. For our Dark Arts class — there is no longer Defense Against — we are forced to practice on troublemakers, and if we refuse we become the troublemakers, forced to torture one another. You have to mean it for it to actually hurt, and it makes me wonder about the times when it hurts. I’ve learned a lot about my fellow students this way. Who are my enemies, Who are unlikely allies. _

_ I can’t say too much, but I would say that it would be a lot easier to see people if I knew where everyone was. _

_ Love, _

_ Juniper _

“I have to go to Hogwarts,” Harry says instantly as soon as he finishes the letter. Ron and Hermione stare at him incredulously, and it’s only because they know him so well that they don’t laugh at what otherwise would be a complete joke of a statement.

“You want to go to Hogwarts,” Hermione gives him her most dubious look yet, which is saying something.

“Yes, I have to give Ginny the marauder’s map —”

“Which you could just give to Dobby to pass on —” Ron interrupted.

“AND” Harry pressed on “I’d like to talk to her in person.”

“If you think you can just keep stringing my sister along —”

“That’s not what this is about you prat!” Harry snapped in frustration, glaring at Ron, who was scowling in the same way he did whenever he got upset or jealous over something. “I need to make sure she’s okay. That all of them are okay. That they know I haven’t abandoned them. That my fight is their fight. And I need to make sure…. Make sure she doesn’t have any expectations of me. I want her to live her life and,” Harry grabbed a fistfull of his already messy hair “ever since the chamber of secrets —” he paused, mouth agape, before closing it abruptly and breaking out into a grin.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “I know that face, that’s your I just figured something out and there’s no way you can argue with me now face, what’s that face for?”

“I need to go to Hogwarts.”

Hermione groaned. “You already  _ said  _ that, look I know you and Ginny —”

“This isn’t just about Ginny, Hermione,” Harry said steadily. “I know how we can destroy the Horcrux.”

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

It wasn’t actually a bad plan. It was actually a  _ great _ plan. So much so that it actually worked. Harry used the sickle to call for Dobby, and Dobby took Harry to Hogwarts and the room of requirement where Ginny was waiting for them and holding the room steady so that it didn’t disappear and they could use it as an entry/exit point. Harry created a new exit right directly into Myrtle’s bathroom, which Dobby had placed a notice-me-not perimeter ward around, and he descended into the chamber, drained surprisingly intact venom sacs of the basilisks & ripped out a dozen of its fangs, securing them in a sealed case he placed in his now extended knapsack, before coming back up, returning to the room of requirement, and doing the hard thing: talking to Ginny.

There hadn’t been much interaction on the way  _ to _ the chamber of secrets. Nothing more than a hug and a “glad you’re alive” and a “good luck” and a “let’s catch up once you’ve done the hard thing that might take a while.”

Dobby had left to give them some privacy, and so Harry and Ginny sat together in what mimicked the Gryffindor common room — a place Harry longed for — on a couch in front of a roaring fireplace. It took a while before either of them found words to say. Finally Harry started.

"Don't —" Harry paused. "Don't wait for me. I know I haven't said exactly but —"

"You don't think you're going to make it out of this, do you?" Ginny asked, tilting her head thoughtfully.

"Well —" Harry stammered.

"I'm not the type who sits around waiting, Potter. You go save the world. I'm going to save Hogwarts." Ginny shrugged. "Maybe one day we'll get married and I'll play quidditch and you'll be an auror and we'll name our kids Arthur James and Lily Margaret. Or maybe you'll snog Ron like I know you want and I'll go explore magical flora and fauna across the globe with Luna and we'll be traveling magizoologist wives. Or maybe you're right, and we'll all die young in this war that should have ended a generation ago. But if I die in this you'll be damned sure it's so that the next generation doesn't have to fight it too."

"I'm pretty sure I want to kiss you right now, not Ron," Harry said, his entire body feeling hot.

"That's because I gave an inspirational speech, those always fire a guy up," Ginny said slyly before giving Harry a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'll take that map now,” she glanced pointedly at the rucksack he had brought with him and he stared at her blankly before shaking himself.

“Yes, of course. I’m only sorry I didn’t think to give it to you before. It’s of much more use to you than me. Just… take care with it,” he said softly as he stood up and handed her the map.

“I know,” Ginny replied gently. “See you later Harry.” 

As she walked out the door Harry touched his cheek, and wondered when and whether he would ever see, let alone get a kiss, from Ginny Weasley.

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

Upon returning to their campsite Harry was practically attacked by the force of nature that was Hermione Granger and her fierce need to verify that he was completely unharmed. Ron, too, looked incredibly relieved to see Harry returned in one piece. The small flaw in Harry’s great plan, which had gone off without a hitch? He hadn’t told Ron and Hermione about it. As such, their relief promptly turned to fury that he had been so reckless in going without them, in putting himself in such danger with no backup.

“How  _ could _ you?” Hermione asked.

“I thought you trusted us!” Ron accused.

“We said we’d be with you, whatever happens, and you left us behind!” Hermione looked like she might start crying and Harry wanted to reach out to comfort her, but he didn’t half know what to say. He felt like he was being beat into a corner.

“I don’t know what to say! It felt like the necessary thing to do! I didn’t want to put you in danger!”

“He  _ didn’t want to put us in danger.  _ Are you hearing this?” Hermione threw her hands up in the air.

“Mate we are in danger  _ every day. _ Hermione is the most-wanted muggleborn in the country. My family is notoriously full of blood traitors and only the flimsy excuse of splattergroit is keeping me from being on the undesirable list right alongside you two. We’re in as much danger as we can  _ get  _ at this point.”

“I don’t — I never wanted —” Harry stammered.

“Harry, I’m tired,” Hermione sighed. Suddenly all the fight was gone from her. The tears that were falling from her face were the slow and steady kind that fall when they just can’t stop. “You’re always taking so many risks, taking on so much responsibility, the world on your shoulders. We just want to help and you’re turning us away at every turn, slamming the door in our faces and shutting us out. What are we supposed to do if you won’t let us help? What use are we?”

Harry — who never initiated physical contact, ever — surprised all of them when he pulled Hermione into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him automatically, as she was wont. His voice was muffled as he spoke into her neck. “I’m sorry Hermione, I never meant to make you feel that way. I only — this prophecy is about me. I’m the one who has to defeat  _ him _ . And you, both of you are a huge part of that. Your support — I can’t even express what it means to me, to have you here, just to have you on this journey. Sometimes I feel like I have to do things alone, but I can… I’ll do my best to remember that isn’t always.” He paused for a second before letting go, wondered if he dared, and then decided he did, and pressed a kiss to her forehead before stepping back. She stared at him, wondering where this newfound personality had come from, and fleetingly wondered if perhaps Dobby had brought back a different Harry Potter.

Harry, meanwhile, was looking at Ron and wondering to what extent his other best friend was also mad at him, or just tired of his actions. He was also wondering what it would be like to kiss said friend, and admitted to himself that Ginny was right, because this was not the first, or even the second, time he had encountered such thoughts.

“Anyway,” Harry coughed. “I do have a bunch of basilisk fangs and venom now. Who wants to destroy a horcrux?”

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

As it turns out, destroying the horcrux wasn’t as easy as they thought. They had decided to pack up camp and venture into a different wood, setting up protections there that they could rip down and flee from at a moments notice. They would take no chances — who knew how destructive a horcrux could be? Ron and Hermione insisted that Harry destroy it, as he would have had his mission with Dumbledore been successful. Had Regulus Black not given his life to defeat Voldemort.

Harry laid the horcrux down in a magically reinforced ceramic bowl placed on the forest floor, hating the way that his scar throbbed and his heart beat faster when he touched it. He had been planning on opening it first, convinced that it needed to be exposed to be destroyed, but Hermione reasoned that the basilisk venom was a powerful enough substance it could eat through anything, and that wouldn’t be necessary. Carefully, Harry took a small bottle of venom from the pocket of his robes, and was about to unstopper it when a billow of smoke came out of the horcrux, taking the form of Ron and Hermione. With horror the trio realized that the locket never needed to be opened to manifest itself, but before they could dwell on that for too long, the phantoms began to speak.

“You’ll never really be a part of our family,” Riddle-Ron spoke in a voice that was an eerie echo of Ron’s and Voldemort’s. “How could a freak like you be one of us, it was pity that we took you in, not love,” he sneered.

“Love!” cackled Riddle-Hermione. “Who could ever love a worthless freak like you? You’re barely a wizard, you’d never have made it past first year without me!”

Harry was vaguely aware of the fact that the real Ron and Hermione were behind him, but the pain in his scar was searing his thoughts and blurring his vision, every word said by the phantoms cutting into him like a knife.

“You would be nothing without us and you repay us by putting our lives in danger over and over again. My family is dead because of you, how could I ever love someone with the Dark Lord in their mind?” Riddle-Ron spat.

And suddenly it was over. 

Hermione, the real Hermione, had taken the basilisk venom out of Harry’s hand and poured almost half the vial — surely more than necessary, but she was pissed, and wanted to be thorough — over the locket, which warped and twisted as it melted into itself, and the phantoms vanished. Harry was vaguely aware of the fact that Ron had sat down next to Harry and pulled him into an embrace, the taller boy neatly tucking Harry into himself. Hermione knelt beside them and softly carded her fingers through Harry’s hair, smoothing out the tangled knots that immediately reformed in a way that was ultimately very relaxing.

“I’m sorry,” Harry choked out. “I — I’m supposed to be the one. If I can’t even —”

“Harry it’s okay,” Hermione said softly. “It really is. You don’t have to be the one to save everyone every time.”

“Yeah, mate. Let us help you. And whatever that thing was, you know it wasn’t me. I don’t pity you, I never have. If anything I’ve been obnoxiously jealous, though I hope you’ll agree I’ve mostly outgrown that,” Ron told him firmly. “And… I do love you. The whole family does. But, you know, I do too. Especially, I mean, as a friend, but also, I mean, not if, I don’t know, if you’ve never said, though I know you were interested in but what I want to say is, I don’t know if you would be, interested in, and I know, it’s not like you have to say it back and this isn’t perhaps the best time” Ron’s face was getting redder and redder, and Harry, who had calmed down from his horcrux-induced panic was now starting to veer into a mix of panic, confusion, and amusement, as he wondered what exactly Ron was trying to say. Hermione, meanwhile, was attempting to stifle giggles. 

She did eventually take pity on Ron when he got so flustered that he stopped talking altogether as he could no longer handle Harry’s mystified expression or Hermione’s silent laughter.

“I think,” Hermione said diplomatically. “What Ron is  _ trying _ to say is that he is in love with you. Whether or not that is a confession best said in an isolated forest where we just destroyed a horcrux is another matter.”

Both boys gaped at her, Harry out of wide-eyed confusion, and Ron out of a kind of betrayal. Harry was somewhat more conscious of the fact that Ron still had not let him go and that he was sitting in his best friend’s lap. His best friend, who according to his other best friend, was in love with him.

_ “Hermione!” _ Ron hissed. “Why would you — I thought you were in love with Harry!” Even as Ron lashed out, he still did not let go.

“That — that is not the point Ronald!” Hermione stood up, brushing the dirt off of her robes. “I think we should get out of this area, don’t you?” She offered Harry her hand and helped him up, Ron reluctantly letting him go. Harry, who was still convinced this was all a dream, or maybe a nightmare stood up, before packing the remains of the horcrux and the bowl into a magical waste containment bin that Hermione had procured, and steadily avoided eye contact with his friends, determined to ignore the accusations they had thrown at each other. Having only  _ just _ permanently broken up with his ex-girlfriend, and still convinced at the idea that his lifespan was infintimily small, it’s not like he wanted to start a new relationship, let alone two, let alone two that could wreck his friendships with the two people he loved more than anyone else and couldn’t bear to lose. The fact that he found them very attractive and would like more instances of being held (hugs from Ron and Hermione made him emotionally fulfilled rather than anxious as many others did) and was very interested in potentially kissing opportunities would have to be shoved aside for now.

When he thought about it like that, he realized that the answer to the “am I in love with my best friends question?” was pretty obvious.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter franchise.  
>  **Author's Note:** Many thanks to Transreal_Clouden, as always.

One would think that confessing their mutual affection for one another would have changed the trio’s relationship somewhat, but as it so happened, that was not actually the case. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had always been incredibly close, closer with each other than any other significant other they might have had, and so adding a romantic dimension to their relationship did not alter things all that much. None of the three of them were particularly interested in having an intensely sexual relationship at this point — none of them felt ready to take that step, and they were each of them still grappling with trauma that meant that while they sought each other out for physical comfort and warmth as the days grew short and cold, sex was the last thing on their minds.

War was the first, finding the horcruxes a priority as they heard from Kreacher and Dobby how things were getting increasingly worse at Hogwarts, and Voldemort was increasingly losing his temper with his followers, though fortunately his bias was in their favor as house elves were beneath his notice. Harry knew this was because he was seeking out the thief who stole whatever precious item Gregorovitch had, though he really did try to keep Voldemort out, knowing how much it distressed Hermione that he was unable to do so, especially since they had Kreacher as a line of information.

Kreacher had been invaluable to them, as he was able to quickly pass along information that Dobby could then relay for them to the Order. Keeping in contact with the Order and with Hogwarts through Kreacher and Dobby was part of the only thing that was keeping the trio sane most days, as they were hitting a roadblock in terms of finding the next horcrux.

It was late autumn, almost December when Harry brought up again something that had been on his mind for ages. 

“I’d like to go to Godric’s Hollow,” Harry said firmly one morning, just as they were finishing breakfast. Ron, who looked torn between unease and sympathy, said nothing. Hermione, however, had a considering look on her face.

“You know, I’d been thinking the same thing,” she hummed, before taking the last bite of her pancake.

“Really?” Harry and Ron both looked at her in surprise. Harry had clearly not expected her to agree so quickly.

“Well, I know we already have the basilisk fangs and venom, but those aren’t exactly safe to use, are they? It would be nice if we had a cleaner way to go about destroying these things. Like the sword.

“I’m not sure I follow….?” said Ron. “What does the sword have to do with Godric’s Hollow?”

Hermione sighed and wiped her mouth clean with a napkin, having finished her food. “Godric Gryffindor’s sword, Godric Gryffindor’s birthplace. I’m just saying, it makes sense that Dumbledore could have hid the sword there. He might have known Harry would go there, seeking more information, or at least closure about his parents,” Hermione looked at Harry sympathetically. “That is why you want to go, isn’t it? Dumbledore would have known that, and he’s a strategist, one would think he would take advantage of it.” 

Harry looked away. Part of him hated that Hermione saw through him so plainly, and part of him was grateful to have people who knew him so well. And if there  _ was _ another reason to go to Godric’s Hollow other than his own, was that really such a bad thing?

“OK, so maybe you’re right. But  _ where  _ would he hide the sword? I doubt he would desecrate graves, or break into their house,” Ron hummed.

“I’ve been thinking about that, and I realized: Bathilda Bagshot. She lives in Godric’s Hollow and was both a friend of the Dumbledores and is still alive. He absolutely could have left the sword with her,” Hermione posited, starting to clean up her dishes. Harry and Ron stood to help, their routine becoming almost automatic at this point. Sure, they could have done it all with magic, but their days had grown so long now, with so little to do and so many ideas and thoughts run over and over themselves, it was hard to not try and take up as much of the time as possible.

That is not to say that the trio spent all their time completely idle. As it turned out, the fact that Hermione had packed an entire library was useful for Harry and Ron, who, not having studied as much as Hermione at Hogwarts, suddenly found themselves more interested than ever in getting caught up on certain subjects. It was not so much that they needed to pass tests in charms and transfiguration, but that they had realized that now they were living out on their own and in the middle of the war, there were certain skills that were useful to learn, and in the days where they had little else to do there was no better time than now to learn them.

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

It was the beginning of December before they declared themselves ready to venture to Godric’s Hollow. To disguise themselves, they opted to use advanced transfiguration to change their appearances. Hermione, much to her chagrin, lightened her skin and all three of them restyled their hair & cast spells on their eyes, such that they could now pass for blond-haired blue-eyed siblings. Additionally, Harry and Ron both grew out beards, and, combined with the fact that neither of them had cut their hair in quite some time, they looked nothing like themselves. For the finishing touches, each of them had added wrinkles to their faces, necks, and hands so as to appear older.

Together, they first visited the graveyard of Godric’s Hollow, passing by a memorial to the Potters that Harry could hardly bear to look at. They had debated whether to go earlier or later in the day or evening and opted in the end to go just after dusk. They placed a light notice-me-not on themselves, linked so that they could still take notice of one another, but casual observers would dismiss them. They spread out, looking for the graves of James and Lily Potter. 

Harry was surprised to stumble upon first not his parents' graves, but that of Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore, the mother and sister of his late headmaster. Again, Harry felt at war with himself. How had Dumbledore never told him? Why had he never mentioned that their mothers shared a final resting place? He felt Ron’s hand on his shoulder and leaned into him. “Let’s keep looking, eh?” the other boy said quietly, not wanting to disrupt the charm keeping them hidden.

Hermione let out a gasp and they rushed to her. Harry wondered if she had found his parents, but instead she was looking at a gravestone that was much, much older. He could barely make out the name.  _ Ignotus Peverell. _

“Peverell, that name sounds familiar…” Ron mused.

“That mark here. Hermione pointed to a strange triangular symbol on the gravestone. “It’s also in the book of runes that Dumbledore gave me. Why would it be here?” Hermione wondered aloud. 

Harry, distracted and eager to look for the graves of his parents, moved on. 

When he finally found them, he did not know what to say. The headstone was made from white marble, gleaming in the dark. Here were his parents, reduced to their names, dates of birth, and the day they died. And a line of verse. 

“The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.” Harry read aloud. “What does that mean? Is that some kind of death eater idea? Why is that there?” He asked in a kind of panic.

Hermione laid a calming hand on his arm. “It’s not the same, Harry,” Hermione said gently. “It means living beyond death. A life after death.”

But all Harry could like was that they were not alive, they were gone. They were moldering remains, nothing but bones, dust under his feet at this very moment. Who had chosen that phrase? Who had decided that this was how his parents were to be remembered? Not that he remembered his parents at all. These words could not fill the void in his life. Boiling tears, wet and hot fell down his face as he stared at their names. The faces he conjured were from photographs. He wanted to leave something for them, he should have brought something, but the winter frost had already come, and every plant in the graveyard was leafless and frozen, the grass brown and covered in ice crystals. Hermione seemed to sense his intention however, as she discreetly waived her wand, and a wreath of roses appeared. 

Harry laid it down gratefully, and the three of them cast disillusionment charms on themselves before pulling on the invisibility cloak and heading away.

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

As it turned out, they did not need to look for Bathilda, because she found them. As they were looking for her cottage, they stumbled upon what once belonged to the Potters, and was now a monument. 

Hermione wondered why no one had rebuilt it, Ron, also pointed out that the cottage was rightfully Harry’s and so who even had the right to turn it into a monument? But Harry was distracted by the writing on the sign and the countless words of encouragement from all the people who had visited over the years, and recently. Those who believed in him as he continued the fight against Voldemort.

Their examination of the monument was interrupted by the arrival of an old woman — Bathilda. Hermione and Ron were not pleased, but Harry insisted that they follow her. Harry, determined to find out more from Bathilda — about Dumbledore, about his parents — continues ahead, but Ron and Hermione, uneasy, surreptitiously take out their wands once they enter the cottage, having noted the overgrown garden, and stench of decay.

Their unease only grew when Bathilda continued to answer none of their questions, even Harry’s insistent, bordering on rude, questions about the picture he had found, who was apparently the same thief who had stolen from Gregorovitch. She was even more surly with Hermione, who had tried to get them back on track, though carefully did not mention the sword explicitly.

“I think she wants me to go upstairs with her,” Harry whispered to the two of them. 

Hermione, who had been noting a copy of  _ The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore  _ that had been apparently gifted to Bathilda by Rita Skeeter, nodded and made to follow, but Bathilda shook her head so vehemently that the trio each of them privately wondered whether it might fall off.

“OK, you can go alone then,” said Ron, who had also been motioning to go upstairs, his left hand up in a capitulating gesture, his wand still hidden in his right hand and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Bathilda and Harry turned to go upstairs, and Hermione and Ron gave each other a knowing look.

_ We are following them, right? _

_ Right. _

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

One snake blasted through the wall and emergency apparition later the trio was safe in yet another forest.

“I’m sorry!” Hermione cried as they landed. “I  _ really _ thought she might have the sword; I had no idea —”

“It’s OK, Hermione.” Harry breathed out. “We’re safe, let’s just put up the enchant — argh!” Harry collapsed to the ground, Ron just barely catching him and laying him down.

“Harry! Harry!” Hermione cried out. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know — it looks like another one of his attacks. I’ll set up the protections, why don’t you set up the tent so we can get him in a bed?” Ron suggested.

“Good plan,” Hermione nodded. “You’re going to be OK Harry.” Hermione smoothed back the unfamiliarly blonde, but still messy as ever hair. Their transfiguration really had done a good job, but she could still tell Harry from anyone. He had broken out into a sweat, the make-up masking his scar starting to run down his face. She cast a cleansing spell to clean it off. “We’ll take care of you.”

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series or franchise. This is all just for fun and to hone my writing skills.
> 
>  **Author's Note:** I'm so sorry this is a couple days late! Things have been so wild around here lately that I completely lost track of time and forgot to put in a reminder to post on Monday. I've inserted posting reminders into my schedule now, so hopefully these updates will be on time going forward. 😊 Thanks as always to Transreal_Clouden, and thank YOU lovely readers for all of your comments and kudos! I am a little slow to respond sometimes, but every time I see something come into my inbox it warms my heart.

**Chapter 5**

The trio had been going back and forth for weeks about whether or not they should go home to the Weasley’s for Christmas. On the one hand, they desperately wanted to see everyone. On the other hand, they knew with almost certainty that the Death Eaters would be expecting that, and after the close call in Godric’s Hollow they didn’t want to take any more risks. A few days before the holiday, however, they got news that completely tilted their world on its axis.

They had been eating an early dinner when Kreacher popped into the tent with no small amount of urgency.

“Mr. Harry, I came as soon as I realized, I knew you would want to know immediately,” Kreacher weazed, almost breathless.

“What happened, Kreacher, what’s wrong?” Harry asked with no small amount of alarm.

“It’s the Lovegood girl, your friend. They’ve taken her, she’s being kept in the Malfoy dungeon, with Ollivander.”

The trio looked at each other with wide eyes.

“We’ve got to get her out of there,” Ron said instantly.

“But how?” said Hermione. “We’ve been thinking of how to get poor Ollivander out for months now. But we can’t risk Kreacher’s position. All the same, I can’t stand the thought of  _ both _ of them down there. There has to be a way…”

Harry tugged at his hair in frustration. “How are they treating her? Is she okay?”

“I don’t think that they are torturing her,” said Kreacher. “She seems to be insurance against her father, and the articles he was writing in the Quibbler. I am sorry I didn’t pick up on their plan any sooner.”

"You couldn't have known," Hermione said sympathetically. "Thank you for coming to us as soon as you did."

Kreacher gave her a nod and something close to an uneasy smile of acknowledgement. Kreacher really had come leaps and bounds with Hermione. With her as evidence, there was no reason for his bias against muggleborns but his inset training, something that he struggled with daily. His long talks with Dobby had helped some, as Dobby had tried to explain to him that muggleborns were wixen just the same as purebloods, and Hermione at least actually cared for house elves, which was more than could be said for most wixen, who cared little for species other than themselves. 

The trio went back and forth for quite some time about what was the best thing to do about the situation. Obviously Luna had to be saved, but how? Their first idea was to simply have Kreacher apparate her out of the manor — and truthfully that was their base plan if they thought of nothing better. That said, they hoped they could come up with something better because having Kreacher installed as a spy had been critical in terms of passing information to the order which had saved multiple lives already. 

“What about Dobby?” asked Ron, as a lull came in the suggestions they were tossing at one another.

“What about him?” Harry asked.

“Could he apparate into the Malfoy dungeons and get Luna out?” Ron asked Kreacher.

Kreacher paused to think. “Almost certainly. The Malfoy estate is not warded against elves at all, and even if it was, Dobby was previously a Malfoy elf and was not formally expelled. He will most definitely be able to break in.”

“But if it’s elf magic, won’t they suspect you or Milly?” Hermione frowned in concern.

“Kreacher can arrange for us to be visible and have alibis so that the Death Eaters will not suspect our involvement,” Kreacher waved away her concerns. “Mistress Narcissa goes out every few days and always takes Milly. Kreacher and Dobby can make sure the next time this overlaps with when he is with Mistress Bellatrix at the same time. I have been writing her correspondence since her arm was hit with a rotting curse in a battle with the Order.”

“A  _ rotting _ curse that has lasted this long?” Hermione said incredulously. “Who in the Order would cast something that dark?”

“I don’t know,” Ron mused. “I wouldn’t put it past Bill, he learned a lot in Egypt. There was a lot to be uncovered in those tombs.”

“I still don’t fully understand the urge to uncover the dead,” Hermione shook her head, “I’m all for uncovering lost knowledge, but sometimes things are buried for a reason.” She shivered. “Who knows what chaos is released.”

“Right, well, that spookiness aside, we still have a friend who is being held in a dungeon that needs rescuing,” Harry said impatiently.

“Like I forgot that!” Hermione scowled.

“Oi! Let’s just calm down, yeah? We all want to save Luna,” Ron was surprised as anyone else to find himself the voice of reason. “Kreacher, how soon do you think that Narcissa will leave the manor with Milly?”

“Yule is quite soon, and I do not think she has bought many presents yet. I expect she will leave within the next few days.”

The trio hated to leave Luna for even a day, but as it turned out, they only had to wait a matter of hours. They’d hardly had time to put the bare bones of their plan in place before it was time to enact it. Much to their surprise, Dobby came back with not one escaped prisoner, but two. 

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

To say that Garrick Ollivander was surprised to find himself in a tent with four teenagers and a house-elf was an understatement. He thought he would never see the outside of a dungeon again. It had been some months since he had ever entertained the thought of an escape. Oh, he had been moved a few times, but that was a simple matter of a portkey from one dark cellar to another, and each time he was nothing but a prisoner. It had only been a matter of time, he thought, before they had no further use for him. The time eventually came when he began to hope for that day. 

When he was moved yet again, to what he understood to be the home of the Malfoys, his despair seemed unending. The worst was when he was joined by young Luna Lovegood, who he knew was not even of age, and yet was here with him. He hated that her light and kindness was trapped in this dark place. 

It was to his utter shock that less than a day after her arrival the elf appeared, and suddenly he was no longer in a cold basement, but in a warm tent the size of a small flat. Young Harry Potter himself was wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and guiding him to an armchair, before offering him a mug of warm tea, holding it up were his own shaking limbs barely could. Ollivander wondered if this was perhaps a dream, but immediately discounted the idea, because no dream he had ever had under the power of the Dark Lord was this fanciful, or this wonderful.

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

The repercussions for the rescue of Luna were negligible. The repercussions for the rescue of Ollivander were not.

Luckily for Kreacher and Milly, house-elf magic was so low on the registrar of what could have permeated the wards of Malfoy Manor that the two of them were barely questioned. The trio and Kreacher almost wondered if they had needed to plan for alibis, but better safe than sorry. Complacent behavior is what was screwing over the Death Eaters — they did not want to let themselves get complacent and get screwed over the same way. 

The Malfoys were baffled as to how Ollivander and Luna had escaped, and deduced it must have been someone who already had access to their wards, meaning that one of their fellow Death Eaters, or, more likely, a snatcher who had reported to them and had temporary access that was never revoked, had bypassed the system. In whichever case, they did not find the culprit in time for Voldemort to enact his particular brand of retribution on them, and Voldemort was not forgiving of having lost his access to the wandmaker so soon after having missed Potter by a hair in Godric’s Hollow. His rage saw both Lucius and Wormtail (who were the two at the manor when the prisoners were determined to have been rescued) suffering from the Cruciatus Curse for an extended length of time, Lucius permanently losing all feeling in his left arm.

Bellatrix, who had been away on a mission and returned only after Voldemort had left his impression of displeasure upon the two of them, took a vicious delight in taunting her brother-in-law. His standing was damaging hers, which meant that she had to punch that much harder down upon him, in order to elevate her own status and differentiate herself from him.

“At least I never let that which is most precious to our Lord slip through my grasp and be destroyed, unlike some,” she sneered over breakfast a few days before Yule. “In fact I  _ treasure  _ it, keeping it in my vault, whereas you discarded that was entrusted to you, dropping it in the dirty cauldron of a blood traitor and letting it be destroyed by a half-blood,” she spat “who  _ disgraced  _ you and _ stole  _ your elf and whose rebellion now stole your prisoners. You disgust me. And you're the choice from the sister with the good taste,” she sniffed. Lucius grimaced.

“We don’t  _ know _ that it was Potter who took Ollivander and the girl. I highly doubt he is skilled enough —”

“Oh no doubt  _ he _ isn’t skilled enough. But unfortunately there are an awful lot of people who would be proper wizards if they didn’t consort with filth who could get through your wards, Lucius, unprotected as they are. You never have been as strong as you claim to be,” Bellatrix sniffed.

“You dare —”

Narcissa was calmly spreading jam across her toast, this being a fairly typical morning. Kreacher continued to listen throughout the argument, but no more information of particular interest was conveyed in the mudslinging contest that was Bellatrix and Lucius arguing over the breakfast table. He decided that the trio would find it very interesting indeed that Bellatrix was so prideful of the contents of her vault. The fact that she compared its contents to the diary, which was a known horcrux, let him know that this was information they should have as soon as possible. Still, he could not jeopardize his cover in any way, and so he went about his duties as usual before finding an opportune moment to slip away and let the others know what he had learned.

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

As it turned out, Kreacher was not reporting his news to a trio, but to a quartet. 

Ollivander had not stayed with them in the tent. He was an old man, weak from the many months of torture he had suffered at the hands of Voldemort, and so they had sent a covert message to the rest of the Weasleys and the Order, asking if there was a safe place he could lay low. Bill and Fleur had opened their home to him, and the wandmaker was now resting at their cottage by the sea. 

Luna, however, had opted to neither return to her father nor Hogwarts, citing both options as being too dangerous, and had elected instead to join the trio on their hunt for horcruxes. The three of them were hesitant at first — partially because Dumbledore had told Harry to only share the mission with Ron and Hermione and partially because of the newness of the added romantic layer of their relationship — but in the end it was  _ Luna _ . She was their friend, and she had nowhere to go, and she could help them. 

The trio’s relationship was different now, but only in that they had voiced what was always there. While there had been a slight increase in physical intimacy, they were for the most part consumed with thoughts of the war, and had less interest in sex and more interest in simply taking comfort in one another’s presence and the fact that they were all still alive. In reality their companionship had yet to change in a particularly tangible way to the outside observer because the three of them had acknowledged the feelings which had always simmered under the surface of their deep friendship. Luna was no mere observer, however, and could tell that something had changed. She wondered if she was perhaps overstaying her welcome by continuing on with them, but where else was there to go?

When Kreacher brought them the news about the location of another horcrux it was news of both joy and dread. Joy, because they had a goal. Dread, because that goal was to rob the most secure bank in the known world.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, my fanfiction is for recreational purposes.  
>  **Author's Note:** Many apologies for the delay in posting! This is the first chapter I didn't have completely pre-written beforehand and with the holidays writing it escaped me. (I celebrate multiple winter holidays, so it can get pretty hectic this time of year!) I hope that you enjoy this update. Thanks as always to Transreal_Clouden.

“This plan is insane,” Ron said flatly.

“It will work,” Hermione wrung her hands.

“He didn’t say it wouldn’t work, ‘Mione, he just said it was insane,” Harry grinned.

“All will be well, you’ll see,” Luna said airily. Hermione rolled her eyes and Luna winked at them. They were all filled with nervous jitters, standing around their campsite in the chilly, early hours of January dawn. Everything had been packed away in Hermione’s beaded bag, today disguised in black, because it was not to be Hermione’s bag, but Bellatrix’s. 

The previous night had been Draco Malfoy’s birthday, and at the celebratory dinner, Kreacher had laced the wine with a delayed-release potion that would ensure all of those who consumed it would sleep — and sleep deeply — for at least 24 hours. Lucius got an extra little something that nudged him in the direction of freeing Milly, the other house elf that worked for the Malfoys. He was not under the imperious curse — her freedom would not stick if he had been — but his inhibitions were loosened, and the idea was planted just enough that he was careless enough to free her. Once she had obtained her freedom, Kreacher informed Milly where Dobby was at Hogwarts and, overjoyed at the idea of being reunited with the elf she had once considered her brother, Milly left at once.

Once Kreacher was certain that all the wixen were unconscious, and that they were the only sentient beings on the premises, he quickly went from room to room stealing all the wands and other magical foci he could find in the manor, both those that were currently at the beside of their owners, and the spare wands the Malfoys kept in their armory. He made sure that each of them was in their own bedroom, and sealed them inside, with silencing charms. Thoughtfully, he left them each enough non-perishable food and water for 2 days and made sure that those in bedrooms without attached bathrooms had chamber pots. He stole all the floo powder, and used Narcissa’s wand to manipulate the wards, imitating her magical signature, to completely seal the manor against all apparition and portkeys, disabling the allowances for death eaters and Voldemort. He then activated the siege wards, which would put the entire manor on lockdown, before he left, taking ample amounts of hair from Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Narcissa, as well as a shiny gold key, with him.

Now Kreacher stood with the quartet, handing Hermione, Ron, and Luna each a goblet filled with one of those hairs — and Polyjuice potion.

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

It was surprising how well the plan worked. They arrived at Gringotts — Hermione as Bellatrix, Luna as Narcissa, Ron as Rodolphus, and Harry under his invisibility cloak with Kreacher on his shoulders — with no issue. Having the correct key, and correct wands, they were allowed past the lobby and into a cart with no issue. Something, however, still made the goblins suspicious because as the cart rushed through the tunnels they were taken through the thief’s downfall, the water pouring over them, their cart going off the rails and tossing them out. As the cart smashed, the five of them fell softly to the ground, saved by Hermione’s cushioning charm. The Polyjuice potion had fallen away, and the goblin that had been guiding them looked as though he was going to shout.

“IMPOS—”

“Imperio!” Harry cast quickly. There was a heady sensation that came over him. Harry realized that this must be part of the allure that some of his books spoke about, when they talked about how people fell prey to the dark arts. He shook his head to try and rid himself of the sensation.

“Right,” said Ron. “We need to take more Polyjuice potion. Then Bella, you obliviate Bogrod and remove what we really look like. Alpha, Beta, you get back under the cloak. I’ll grab the clankers.”

While it had been decided earlier that they would only refer to each other by the names of the people whose bodies they were possessing, referring to Harry as Alpha and Kreacher as Beta, it was still strange for all of them to assume those roles. Hastily the three imposters drank their Polyjuice potion, before Harry instructed Bogrod to take them to the Lestrange vault. It was with sadness that they all saw the blinded, injured dragon, though it was with fear that they jumped back at its roar. Harry issued a quick command to Bogrod in addition to his order to take them to the Lestrange vault.

“Rod, take out the clankers!” Harry reminded, and Ron pulled out metal tools from the leather bag he had been carrying. Kreacher, who as a Black elf had been down to these vaults before, had warned them about the dragon and what was needed to subdue its wrath, but they did not like it. The dragon shrunk back at the expectation of pain, and each of them winced in compassion for the dragon. As he did so, Harry started to get an idea about their new exit strategy.

Once they got to the vault and Bogrod had opened it for them, Harry commanded the goblin to turn away so that he would not see what they were doing. Harry took off the cloak and Kreacher hopped down. Staying silent and communicating with gestures in case the memories of the imperioed goblin were ever recovered, Kreacher entered the vault. 

This was what they were counting on. Kreacher, as an elf accepted by Bellatrix, should be able to retrieve items from her vault. He had been able to do so previously for other members of the house of Black and knew that those who were part of the family would be subject to curses on the objects. They scanned the vault, looking for the cup, and hoping that it was not the unknown horcrux that was hiding there. “There!” Harry dared to whisper, hoping that if this were remembered his voice or movement would not give anything away. Kreacher quickly grabbed the cup, leaving a duplicate in its place. He brought the original to Hermione, who tucked it, and the fake sword of Gryffindor (for which they left no duplicate), in her beaded bag, soon secured in an inner pocket of her robes. It was not a moment too soon, as they heard the clanking sound that indicated someone was subduing the dragon — and that it was time to enact Harry’s exit strategy.

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

“I can’t believe we did that!” Ron shouted, as they clung to the dragon that was currently flying them out of London. Hermione, who was either laughing or crying, did not respond with words, but the relief she felt at being free of Gringotts was being slightly mitigated by the fact that she was on top of a flying dragon going who knows where.

“We need to disguise the dragon!” Luna yelled over the wind. “She’s a big target if they come after us on brooms.”

“Disillusionment charms on three?” Harry shouted. All five of them were themselves under disillusionment charms, a simple addition to their escape plan, and so while he could not see their nods, he did hear each person’s noises of assent.

Hermione whimpered at the idea of only clinging to the dragon with one hand, but she was not a Gryffindor for nothing. And if she dropped the wand, at least she was using Bellatrix’s at that moment and not hers.

Flying on the back of a semi-invisible dragon was even worse than before, but finally, what felt like hours later, especially in the cold, bitter, January skies, the dragon started to descend. They toyed with the idea of jumping in the water but given that the lake the dragon was approaching seemed to be filled with ice they decided instead to chance the ground using cushioning charms.

“Arresto momentum!” They each shouted as they jumped off. Having removed their personal disillusionment charms, they were able to cast at each other, Hermione pointing at Luna, Luna at Harry, Harry at Ron, Ron at Kreacher, and Kreacher using a house elf spell on Hermione. Their landing on the mossy ground was rough, but none of them broke anything, and at least they were not in an icy lake in January. Despite the warming charms that they had cast on each other while they were on the dragon, they were each relieved to be drinking the warm butterbeers that Kreacher had purchased for them on his last grocery trip before he would have to go underground. While his sealing up of Malfoy manor would perhaps finally teach those wixen not to underestimate house elves, it also meant that he was now a house elf on the run.

After apparating away from the dragon to find a place to destroy the horcrux, they changed location again to find themselves a new campsite, not wanting to settle near where the dark object had been destroyed, lest the magic of it linger. The five of them had a small celebration over having retrieved yet another horcrux, though Kreacher felt slightly out of place, and after a time asked if he could be excused to go to Hogwarts, as he would like to see Dobby, and check on Milly.

“You… didn’t have to stay with us, Kreacher,” said Harry, slightly awkwardly. “I apologize if you thought you did. You’re free to see Dobby or Milly any time you like, it’s no problem to me, it’s not like I —” Harry paused.

“You own me, Master Harry,” said Kreacher. “I did not feel I could leave without your permission. You are a good master, but you are still a master.” Kreacher disappeared with a pop, and Harry, thoroughly uncomfortable, did not know where to look. The celebratory mood had been soured, as the four wixen looked at each other.

“I’m not going to say I told you so—” began Hermione.

“Don’t you start —” said Ron.

“Well, isn’t she right?” said Harry.

“But she did it all wrong!” snapped Ron.

 _“Excuse me?”_ Hermione asked.

“When did you ever ask a house elf what they wanted, eh?” said Ron fiercely. “When did you ever really _listen_ to a house elf instead of just assuming you knew best?”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean? I’ve done more for house elves than —”

“What like knitting hats so that Dobby —”

 _“Ron,”_ Harry hissed.

“No, Harry! She should know!”

“I should know _what_ exactly?” Hermione snapped.

Ron suddenly hesitated. He did not actually want to hurt her, but she should know. “When you were knitting all those hats and leaving them all over the place in the common room. The house elves got so offended about you trying to free them without their consent that they stopped cleaning it, so Dobby had to clean the entire common room by himself for most of that term,” he said finally.

Hermione gasped in slight horror. “Why on Earth did neither of you tell me?” Hermione demanded. “Why would you —”

“You were so stressed, and knitting seemed to help,” said Harry hesitantly. “And I knew Umbridge made you feel powerless, like you couldn’t do anything. Once we started the DA you stopped knitting them as much, and I only found out a little bit before then,” Harry continued sounding awkward.

“I can’t believe you never told me,” Hermione whispered. “And I’ve been so foolish about this whole thing, haven’t I?” She could tell that tears wanted to well up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, starting to sound angry now. "We wixen are awful, simply awful in how we treat house elves and I’m hardly different if I spend all my time ignoring them and trying to tell them who they are and not listening. Of course, what we feel is important, but it matters more what we do about it.” 

NUaHE NUaHE NUaHE

To say that Voldemort was upset would be an understatement. Due to a series of events that he would call unfortunate and the quartet would call fortuitous, he did not learn that his horcrux had been stolen for almost two weeks.

The night of January 5th nearly all his senior Death Eaters were drugged and trapped in Malfoy Manor, under siege wards, most of them not to wake up until the wee hours of January 6th/7th and unable to escape despite their best efforts. Additionally, just before this happened, Lucius Malfoy freed both house elves attached to the family, Milly and Kreacher, who had previously belonged to Harry Potter. 

In the early morning of January 6th, when Gringotts was barely open, 3-4 people, 3 bearing the faces of Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Rodolphus, and potentially one under an invisibility cloak or advanced disillusionment charm, arrived at Gringotts with their wands and the key to the Lestrange Vault. They failed the test of the Thief’s downfall, but successfully obliviated the goblin who escorted them such that they could not be identified because they soon after took more Polyjuice potion. Continuing on foot they broke into the vault and seemingly took only Gryffindor’s Sword _without_ inciting any gemino or flagrante curses. This would indicate that someone with permission to enter the vault had helped them — adding to his theory that someone in his inner circle was betraying him, as only a Black, Lestrange, or Malfoy could have entered that vault, and they were all conveniently locked up in Malfoy Manor, under siege wards, something that could have only been put up by a member of the family.

The group then escaped on the back of a dragon. The goblins were unable to trace the dragon, as they did not have the support needed to follow it, the dragon itself having crashed through and destroyed its repository of brooms during its escape. By the time they got someone on a broom to chase after it, the dragon had long since departed London. 

The details of this break in were kept secret as Gringotts tried to reach the Lestranges, and their emergency contacts, the Malfoys, with increasing alarm that they were not able to do so. While it was true that people had seen a dragon escape from their vaults — they could not hide that — the fact that its passengers were invisible meant that the fact a vault had been robbed was something the goblins could keep secret for now. That said, their policy dictated that those who had been subject to a break-in needed to be notified within 24-hours, and when it got to the 23rd hour, on the morning of the 7th, they attempted to contact the emergency contact of the Malfoys, one Severus Snape, headmaster of Hogwarts. 

Unfortunately, Snape was otherwise engaged at the time. One of the Carrows had issued a detention to a Ravenclaw student where that student was subject to the cruciatus curse. Alecto had been under the impression that the student was a half-blood, but in truth they were a pureblood student whose parent was on the wizengamot, and in fact a fellow death eater. When the goblins sent their initial correspondence, it went directly into his inbox, to be read later, as he attempted to meditate the conversation. 

Unfortunately, this was a day on which Snape received a great deal of correspondence and had to mediate several other issues, and so did not read the missive from Gringotts until the afternoon of the 8th, at which time he received a second missive that prompted him to read the first, and thus he left at once. The Gringotts goblins told him nothing directly, but instead instructed him to contact the Malfoys and the Lestranges for them, since that was the point of an emergency contact. 

Snape went to Malfoy Manor, intending to contact his fellow death eaters, and was surprised to find the house under siege wards, which he knew himself to be incapable of penetrating. After no small amount of thought, and realizing that, given that Gringotts had been robbed on the 6th and it was now the night of the 8th, Voldemort had to be informed. He had no easy way of contacting the Dark Lord, other than through the Dark Mark, and he knew that was only to be used if they had found Potter. Instead, he returned to Hogwarts and sourced the fastest owl that he was not personally attached to, lest Voldemort literally shoot the messenger, and wrote to the Dark Lord, letting him know the barest details of the case.

The poor owl was in for an unfortunate trip. When Headmaster Snape sent the letter, Voldemort was over 1,800 miles away in Belarus. But she had to constantly change course, because in the week it took her to reach him, via her magical tracking skills, he also visited Germany, Poland, and Romania. To say that she was very tired, and very cross, when she finally reached him in France, a week and a half later, is an understatement. All the same, she was a very _smart_ owl, and despite how much she desired to rest on the back of the chair in the room where she finally found the dark lord, she exited through the window immediately after he took her letter, having listened carefully to the headmaster, who warned her to leave as soon as the letter had been delivered, lest she want to suffer an unfortunate fate.

It was a simple matter for Voldemort to apparate from France to England on January 20th, 1998, and he tore down the wards at Malfoy Manor within half a day. There he found his half-starved and dehydrated Death Eaters. After impatiently letting Snape nurse them back to health enough that at least Bellatrix could visit Gringotts, two days later she was able to return to him, presenting a cup that, though she dreaded the thought of it, she was almost certain was a fake.

Judging by his reaction, she was right.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you are enjoying this story. You can read more of my fanfiction here on Ao3 or on my fanfiction website [jesmalestiel.com](https://jesmalestiel.com). You can also read my original writing on [Word-for-Sense and Other Stories](https://word-for-sense.com). If you'd like to support my work, you can find more information about doing so on my site.


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